


Real

by dragonspell



Category: DC's Legends of Tomorrow (TV)
Genre: M/M, Season/Series 02, pre-Doomsworld
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-03-24
Updated: 2017-03-24
Packaged: 2018-10-10 06:07:10
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,286
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10430808
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dragonspell/pseuds/dragonspell
Summary: The room is dark, barely lit, but Mick can’t look away from Leonard’s face.  Whatever place that the speedster zoomed them to Mick doesn’t care because Leonard is in front of him, living and breathing and looking at him with those blue eyes that have been haunting Mick’s dreams since the Vanishing Point.  Past, present, future: it all seems to blend into one.  There is no such thing as time anymore, because it’s all the same.  Mick’s got to know if this is real, because it feels like his hallucinations have simply combined with the dreams he doesn’t dare remember, wrapping themselves in a coating of memories.  He surges forward, his hands cupping Leonard’s face to hold him in place, still half-amazed that it is warm skin he touches and not cold nothingness, and pins Leonard to the closest wall.(Slight spoilers for season 2)





	

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Goddesstio](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Goddesstio/gifts).



> Originally posted on [Tumblr](http://dragonspell26.tumblr.com/post/158786141633/because-goddesstio-wanted-doomsworld-reunion). Still not porn.

The room is dark, barely lit, but Mick can’t look away from Leonard’s face. Whatever place that the speedster zoomed them to Mick doesn’t care because Leonard is in front of him, living and breathing and looking at him with those blue eyes that have been haunting Mick’s dreams since the Vanishing Point. Past, present, future: it all seems to blend into one. There is no such thing as time anymore, because it’s all the same.

This is the Leonard who sits for hours on whatever busted up couch that Mick finds on the street and drags back to the anonymous, abandoned warehouse they’ve decided to stay in at the moment; the Leonard who flips through piles of glossy magazines, nimble fingers playing with the pages as he criticizes article choices, all while his feet are flopped over the back of the couch, legs bent at the knee, too cool to sit like a normal person; the Leonard who grins and welcomes Mick with a few teasing words, one leg curling around Mick’s waist when Mick sits down beside him.

This is the Leonard who plans heist after heist for them with a singular focus, blue prints spread across the table etched with half formed ideas as each security measure is counted and countered; the Leonard who methodically crosses all the T’s, dotted all the I’s and thinks out every contingency; the Leonard who drags Mick across the world, stealing just because they can; the Leonard who’s always looking for the next big challenge. 

This is the Leonard who convinces Mick to join a crazy Englishman aboard his damn timeship for reasons of his own, impressed by a pretty boy in red and a chance to do something more; the Leonard who smiles like it’s Christmas, like Mick’s just helped him pull off the biggest heist in history, when Mick agrees; the Leonard whose smile makes the burned, scarred thing in Mick’s chest start to beat again every time Mick sees it.

This is the Leonard whose own heart is undeniable when it breaks as he abandons Mick in a forgotten forest, the broken pieces on display when Mick comes back for revenge; the Leonard who desperately wants Mick to forgive him even if he can’t say the words, who clings to Mick in a tiny bunk surrounded by the future and whispers that he’ll never leave Mick again. This is the Leonard who takes Mick’s place in death, sacrificing himself rather than abandoning Mick again—the Leonard who becomes a hero.

All of those men are wrapped up in the easy smile that Leonard tosses Mick’s way and Mick’s once dead heart starts to pound in his chest, brought back to life with a punch.

The yellow speedster nabs the Spear from Leonard and streaks down the black hallway, followed swiftly by Darhk. They’re eager to start whatever it is that they’re planning, but Mick feels nothing for them, not even a pinch of curiosity at what they might be cooking up. He’s too caught up in the way that Leonard’s wrestling down his googles. Leonard squints into the darkness. Mick catches his arm, fingers wrapping around the solid length even as he half expects to have them come up empty. Leonard pauses in mid-step, staring down at where Mick has caught him. “Mick…”

Mick’s got to know if this is real, because it feels like his hallucinations have simply combined with the dreams he doesn’t dare remember, wrapping themselves in a coating of memories. He surges forward, his hands cupping Leonard’s face to hold him in place, still half-amazed that it is warm skin he touches and not cold nothingness, and pins Leonard to the closest wall.

“Mick, the Spear—”

“Shut up,” Mick growls and slams his lips against Leonard’s. Their mouths merge, teeth clashing as Mick changes the angle and forces Leonard to open for him. Mick flicks his tongue inside of Leonard’s mouth, desperate to know if Leonard tastes like Mick remembers. 

There’s something colder, more distant, and all the more familiar for it. Mick breathes in deep and tries to memorize the feel of Leonard against him, the hard press of his teeth, the strain of his lips, the rough scratch of his stubble, the warmth of his body containing his still beating heart as it thumps wildly in his chest, irrefutable proof that Leonard is alive and standing here in front of Mick. Leonard’s hands scramble against Mick’s shoulders, digging and shoving, but Mick ignores them, unable to move away.

A fist lands in Mick’s gut, forcing the air from this body, and Mick doubles over with a quiet groan, arm banding around his waist to protect himself from another blow. It brings him back to his senses and reminds of where he is, what he’s dealing with. He rests his head against the wall as Leonard slips away, aching to touch again but knowing that it will only bring pain if he doesn’t do it on Leonard’s terms. For whatever reason, Leonard has told him ‘no’ and Mick knows enough to respect that. 

For all of their hardness when condensed into a fist, Leonard’s fingers are gentle when they slide over Mick’s jaw, lightly tracing the lines of Mick’s face. Mick swallows and straightens. He stays unmoving as Leonard slides back into his space, wanting to see how this will go, what Leonard will give him. Leonard fingers slip around the back of Mick’s head, pulling him forward.

Leonard’s kiss is much softer than Mick’s, full of promise rather than desperation, and a sad, pathetic noise squeaks out of Mick’s throat as he slowly presses himself into it. It betrays his weakness, baring feelings that Mick learned long ago were better off buried, but Mick is a gaping wound, cut open from belly to neck with all of his pathetic neediness on display. He needs Leonard. He has learned this. If nothing else has sunk past the hard defense of his thick skull, he has learned that he needs Leonard.

He loves him.

Mick runs his hands over Leonard’s forearms. _Real_ , they say. He takes a half step forward, pressing his chest to Leonard’s, feeling the beat of Leonard’s heart against his own. _Real_ , it says. Mick tilts his head and leans forward, wordlessly begging for more and not caring how weak he looks. Leonard is real and that’s all that matters.

Their lips make a soft, wet sound as Leonard steps away and it echoes in Mick’s ears. It takes him a moment to open his eyes, afraid that Leonard, real or not, might disappear like all the hallucinations before him. Leonard rumbles a little sound and runs his palm over Mick’s cheek again. “The Spear, Mick,” he says, his voice the smooth murmur he uses when he’s hoping to coax Mick forward. “Imagine what it could do for us. You and me. We could have anything. _Everything_. Imagine, Mick.” Leonard’s hand drops to Mick’s shoulder, straightening his clothes before dropping away entirely. “All the money and power we could ever want. A good life for us. An amazing life. A life for Lisa—a good one. And all we have to do is just _take_ it.”

It sounds too good to be true. Mick’s been around long enough to know that it probably is, but that doesn’t stop him from wanting. He’s heard the Spear’s song, too. “You and me,” Mick says, repeating Leonard’s earlier words.

“You and me,” Leonard echoes. He takes a step forward and turns back to face Mick with a smirk as he waves his hand toward the far end of the hall. “Come on.”

Mick follows. There’s no way that he cannot.


End file.
